"Tess, dear Tess," cried Andy, "you found 'im, didn't ye, Tess? It air wonderful."
"Boy lives forever!" the smiling lips ejaculated.
A tiny snore directed their attention to the little girl in the big rocking chair.
"Wrap her up, Andy," Tess directed. "I'm going to take her home."
Andy's shaking hands could hardly do the girl's bidding.
"It's an awful night, brat. Can you do it?"
"I'll get her back, all right," promised Tess, and she went out and down the stairs.
When she came back, Andy viewed her with amazement. She stood tall and slender before him, dressed like a stripling youth in one of Deforrest Young's riding suits, boots on her feet and a cap in her hand.
"I couldn't walk in a dress," she explained simply. "Help me wrap up my hair. I've got to go cross-lots."
Quickly, Andy fastened the shining curls under the big cap. Elsie was still asleep in the blankets. Tess picked her up and went out into the hall and down the stairs. When the dwarf opened the outside door, the stinging gale slashed at the open portal.
"God help my brat!" prayed Andy. Tess looked into his face a moment, and then strode away with her burden.
The lane was even harder to reach than it had been when she came from Brewer's. She labored to the tracks, and struck off across the fields. The wind stung her face with particles of ice, that cut like needles. A snow owl dropped from the gloom of a tree, poised a moment on wing, and stared at her with glittering, hungry eyes. Then, he fluttered upward and was gone. To force her way along took all her skill and experience with snow and storm. Unable to wade through the deep drifts by the fences, she had to roll over and over the tops of them. At such times, she put down the warmly wrapped baby and as she rolled, jerked her along through the snow. The bitter gale contested every inch of the way. The wind blew with such tremendous power in the cleared spaces that she could not face the biting blast, but again and again was compelled to creep over the icy crust, and pull the blanketed baby behind her.
When she reached the Trumansburg road, she could hardly breathe. The icy winds froze the sweat upon her toiling body and chilled the very marrow of her aching bones. The little one lay a dead weight in her arms. The ceaseless attacks of the cruel wind sapped her strength. She wanted to rest, but she remembered it wouldn't do to stop. Every step was a nightmare of impossible effort.